


Memento Mori, Mi Amor

by bexacaust



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: Wise Men say-Only Fools rush in…
Kudos: 6





	Memento Mori, Mi Amor

The god of rust-caked death watched sadly as the towering monument to loss seemed to flicker, flash, and fade to and fro over the shifting sands of time.

Tonight, a new name was destined to etch itself into ice cold marble; he prayed it was not the one he saw in old stars.

He closed his optics, praying to gods he knew had long since gone silent and forgetful- and he prayed like a lost soul in the dark. His hands clasped as his cloak seemed to curl around him in an attempt at comfort; glittering with a thousand forgotten stars and ten thousand forgotten last words as he stood in the thick cover of bright blue blooms and cold-curled leafloam.

A thousand possibilities flashed over the face of heaven as he looked up, feeling coolant fill his vision- Once, oh, just once he wished he could see the moment of reunion. The second sparks clicked back into orbit, when hands held tight to frames so deeply missed…

But his duty was a lonely one, a mourning one, littered with the feathers of Vosian chipravens and heralded with the skittering of carrion scraplets hungry for a new meal.

The hiss of a chisel on steelstone.

A single glyph, and the name begins to spell itself out as unseen hands carve it deep into the pillar that stands so lonely.

A tombstone for an empty mausoleum, a marker for an empty coffin as the ghost of the interred inhabits a corrupt shell.

The god of death, built of pistons and crude oil, wails aloud in the name of the one who would mourn so deep yet has no inkling of the pain lying in wait in this quiet utopia of silence and remembrance.

D - A - M - U - S

He falls to one knee, hand over where a spark should sit and whirl like the suns dying all around him.

Once, just once, he wished he could witness the reunion of lovers since lost; of family once found, of the missing to the dead…

But it would not be, this time- Because he knew, encased in violet and aeons from silence the last vestiges of gentleness pass into nonexistence and are replaced by a lust for glory and hunger for bloodshed. The last traces of softspoken words are ground out in the name of new warcries and the memories of discarded academics and secret affections are laid to rest under the new grave.

For here lies Damus, once Glitch, once whole and beloved by his own manic philosopher.

Here lies Damus, once Glitch, once a soft sun in the center of a galaxy of knowledge outpouring.

Here lies Damus, once Glitch - the one who held Skids’s spark in gentle and broken hands.

Somewhere, Skids jerks awake, an old name on his lipplates and tears streaking his faceplates- and he stares out the window, wondering who it is he has forgotten now?

* * *


End file.
